Friends Reunited
by Kay Em2
Summary: The sequel to What's Love Got To Do With It? What happens next for Charles, Ellie, and the rest of the gang? FINISHED! Please R&R.
1. Hatching and Matching

_Disclaimer: The characters, alas, are not mine. They belong to Fox. But once I got the idea, I just had to write it down. By the way, spelling is in English English (not American English), 'cos that's where I am and that's how I write. Constructive feedback and comments welcome!  
  
**Grateful thanks to everyone who reviewed 'What's Love got to do with it'. For all those who asked for a sequel – this one's for you!** _

**Friends Reunited   
**By Kay Em

**April 1955, Boston Mass.**

Charles cursed and pulled his cravat undone for the third time. "I cannot get this thing right," he growled, as he started to re-tie it again.

"Oh, come here!" Ellie moved across the bedroom to stand in front of him, and deftly twisted the material into an elegant knot. "There. Very smart you look too."

"Thanks." He bent to kiss the corner of her mouth, "You look pretty good yourself."

Ellie gave him a sceptical look and patted the front of her maternity dress. "Well, it's gallant of you to say so," she said, "But we both know that if I dyed this thing khaki, you, BJ and Hawkeye could call it the Swamp and live in it."

He laughed, turning her around so that he could get his arms around her more easily. "You look fine," he said, smoothing the material over her 'bump'. "How are they doing this morning anyway?"

"It's not a 'they'," she insisted, "Doctor White says it's just one baby."

"Ellie, I've seen women at full term who aren't as big as you are now," he said, "And you've got another three months to go yet. Who are you going to believe, the doctor you see at the clinic once a fortnight, or the doctor you sleep with?"

She met his gaze via the mirror, and put her hands over his. "Alright, _doctor_ – he, she, or they are giving me hell if you really want to know," she said, "There, feel that kick?"

"_Two_ kicks," he said, with a grin, "They obviously know it's an important day."

Ellie gave up on the twins-or-not debate – they'd been over that ground repeatedly since her fourth month. "Hey, listen, don't drink too much champagne at the reception, okay?"

"Ellie, when have I ever drunk too much champagne?"

She quirked an eyebrow, looked up at him.

"Okay, okay, but since it's physically impossible at the moment to get you any _more_ pregnant, why worry?" He let her go so that he could fix his diamond tie-pin into the centre of his cravat, then checked his watch. "Time for me to go and corner the groom," he said, pulling on his morning coat and planting a swift kiss on Ellie's forehead. "Take care. I'll see you in Church."

"Hey!" she called, as he made for the door, "Don't forget the ring!"

============================= 

"Got the ring?" said David Sheridan, as they took their seats at the front of the Church.

"Ring?" said Charles, blankly. He smiled at David's panicked expression, waited a moment before producing the small gold band from his waistcoat pocket and saying: "Kidding, just kidding."

"Don't do that to me!" David shot him a look that was part plea, part nerves, part annoyance at being taken in.

The organ played one of David's own compositions while they waited and the Church filled. But at last _The Wedding March _proclaimed the bride's arrival, and everyone stood.

Charles turned to see the bride come down the aisle, and smiled proudly as he watched Beth leading the way, dressed in green silk, to match Charles' and David's cravats, and carrying a little basket of white gerbera daisies. She looked very pleased with herself, and walked slowly and deliberately, the way they'd rehearsed her – till she looked up and saw Charles.

"Daddy!" she shouted, and ran the last few yards toward him.

A ripple of amusement coursed through the congregation and Charles crouched, grinning, as she reached him. She realised everyone was laughing, and came to a halt as he put out a hand to steady her. "Done it wrong?" she said, her lower lip beginning to quiver.

"No, angel, you did just fine," he said, gently, "Go sit with mommy now, like you practiced."

Reassured, she skipped off to join Ellie on the front row, and Charles straightened up and exchanged a smile with the bride.

The minister began the preliminaries as everyone settled down and took their places then, as Charles rechecked his waistcoat pocket for the ring, went on: "David and Honoria are come to be joined in this holy estate of matrimony…"

============================ 

**August 1955**

As Charles walked across the lawn toward the summer-house, he could see Beth and Ellie were in the sand-pit beside it, busily digging. Beth saw him first and dropped her little spade as she raced over to meet him, laughing as he picked her up and swung her over his head for a moment, before lowering her closer for a kiss.

"I been in the sand," she told him, putting her arms around his neck, "Making pies."

"Yes, with _wet_ sand by the look of it," he said, realising too late that she was covered in it and so, now, was his shirt, "Where did you get the water from, sweetie?"

She pointed at the paddling pool. "From there."

"Oh yes, of course. Silly daddy." He put her down, and she trotted back into the sand and tried to pat some of it into a mound.

"Sorry, darlin'," smiled Ellie, dusting the sand off her hands and jeans before climbing out of the sandpit to kiss him, "Looks like she got you again."

"At least this will come off," he said, brushing at his shirt, "Unlike the finger-paints."

Beth had picked up her bucket. "Need more water," she said, toddling across to the paddling pool.

"Well, be careful," said Charles, "Mind you don't turn it into a swamp."

He realised what he'd said, and chuckled as Beth looked around at him and said: "What's a swamp?"

"It's a nasty, smelly, damp place full of wild creatures," he grinned, "And I don't want one in my garden."

"Here, sweetheart, let mommy help," said Ellie, going over to take the bucket from Beth.

"I'll go say hello to my other girls," said Charles, heading for the summer house.

"Just make sure you don't wake 'em - they only dropped off half-an-hour ago."

The big double pram was parked just inside the open doors, and Charles smiled when he saw that the babies had turned their faces toward one another as they slept. He still had no idea which one was which, but it didn't matter, they were both beautiful.

"Excuse me, sir?"

He hadn't heard Mrs Hall approach, and her quiet whisper made him jump.

"Your gin and tonic," she said, handing him a glass. "Can I get anything for you, madam? Or Miss Elizabeth?" she asked, as Ellie came over.

"No thanks, Mrs Hall, there's still some of your delicious lemonade left," said Ellie, with a smile, indicating the pitcher on the table.

The housekeeper beamed, acknowledging the compliment, and started back to the house.

"You made that poor woman walk all the way over here to bring you a drink?" Ellie spoke quietly so as not to wake the twins, but Charles could hear the disapproval in her voice.

"It's what she's paid for," he said, patiently, "She'll have thought nothing of it."

"Nor did you, apparently." Ellie shook her head, and went across to pour herself a lemonade. "What is it, gin?"

"And tonic."

"Yeah, I've seen the amount of tonic you like! If Mrs Hall has done more than introduce that glass to it, she's given you too much!"

He shrugged. "So what?"

"Oh nothing. Only..."

"Yes?" He moved across to stand in front of her.

"There was an article in one of those magazines Honoria passed on to me," she said, "About war veterans, and drink. It made me realise how much you have is all."

"Ellie, I hope you're not telling me I drink too much?" He put his glass down on the table and put his hands on his hips.

She shook her head, brushed some of the sand from the front of his shirt. "I know better than to try and tell you anything," she said, sliding her arms around his waist, "Especially when you're still so smug about your diagnosis of twins being correct. But..."

Charles put his fingers over her lips. "Don't finish that sentence," he said, "It's too nice a day to start an argument."

"I wasn't aiming to," she said, "I'm not about to start counting your drinks, Charles. I just thought... maybe you should."

Exasperated, he pulled away from her, drained his glass, and said: "One. And the refill that I'm going to go and get myself will be two."

He walked back to the house, poured himself another measure and drank it neat. He thought for a moment, decided that if he was going to prove a point he might as well do it properly, and unscrewed the bottle again.

"Three," he said.

============================ 

The noise of the curtains being drawn back made Charles wince, and he groaned and screwed his eyes more tightly shut as sunlight flooded into the bedroom.

"Rise and shine then!" said Ellie, cheerfully, pulling back the covers he'd dragged over his head, "Come on, it's a beautiful day!"

"Go away," he moaned, grabbing a pillow to put over his head instead, "Leave me alone."

"Can't," she said, lying down next to him and yanking the pillow away, "You promised to take Beth to the zoo today, remember?"

"Oh hell. Yes I did, didn't I?" He kept his eyes closed. "Can it wait till I'm human again?"

A snort. "She's up, dressed, breakfasted and ready to go. I reckon you've got a half-hour, tops, before she starts screaming."

He reluctantly opened one eye. "Serves me right, yes?"

"For trying to prove a point by drinking yourself senseless?" Ellie grinned, unsympathetically. "It sure does. Credit where it's due though, you never lost count!"

Charles held his head. "All the way up to eleven - wasn't it?"

"I'm surprised you remember."

He managed a smile. "I'd need to be a lot more inebriated than that not to remember anything, believe me!"

"Really?"

"Really. I've got the photos to prove it, somewhere." He sat up, very slowly. "And if you can get Beth to wait for an hour, I'll find them for you later."

"You got yourself a deal."

"Ellie."

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me my PJs are inside-out?"

"'Cause it was way too much fun watching you trying to button them up," she giggled, kneeling behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders "And you wouldn't have taken any notice of me if I had told you!"

She was right. He knew she was right, and not just about the pyjamas either. The drink when he got home, the wine over dinner, the port or the brandy, the nightcap... How easily the habits formed. How easily they... grew. "I'm sorry," he sighed.

Ellie slid her arms across his chest and rested her cheek against his. "I guess it never really goes away, does it?" she said, "All that dying."

"No." He leaned his head back against her shoulder and put a hand up to hold on to her forearm, "But I don't want to become another casualty."

"Well, at least you're not drinking that brew from the still!"

"No, I had to be pretty desperate for a drink to do that, even back then! It was evil stuff!" He rubbed his throbbing forehead, wondering how many times he'd sworn to himself that he would never, ever have another hangover.

"Daddy," he heard Beth call from the corridor outside, "Are you ready yet?"

Ellie scrambled off the bed and made for the door. "I'll head her off at the pass for a while," she said, "Unless you want me to tell her you're poorly and you'll take her another day?"

"No," said Charles, getting to his feet and heading for the bathroom, "I'll manage. A promise is a promise."

And this time, he thought, he'd keep the promise he made to himself too.

============================ 

**November 1955**

"You know," said Ellie, putting a record on the turntable while Charles made himself comfortable on the sofa, "Beth asked me a question today that I just couldn't answer."

He laughed. "She does that all the time!" he said, "Every time you come up with an answer to one question, she comes back with 'why', till you end up saying 'because it is'. Yesterday she asked me why diamonds are shiny."

"Oh lord." Ellie paused to look around at him, "Don't tell me you gave the poor kid a lecture on the structure of carbon atoms!"

"Course not!" He smiled. "I told her that when the dwarves have dug them up, Snow White polishes them."

"Cute answer!" grinned Ellie, "Don't tell me - she thought about that for about two seconds and then said..."

"Why!" they finished together.

"So, what was it you couldn't answer?" said Charles, when they'd finished laughing, "Why does the sun shine? I had that one last week."

Ellie shook her head, lowered the needle to the spinning record, and crossed the room to sit next to him as the symphony started. "She got into one of her sulks when you had to go off to the hospital," she said, "And she stamped her foot and said 'why does daddy have to go to work anyway?' And... well, I couldn't give her the standard answer - the one about daddy having to make enough money to buy us nice food and nice things." She plumped the cushions and propped an elbow on them as she went on: After all, you don't have to go to work to do that, do you? Just your stock portfolio brings in more cash than you earn as a surgeon."

"True," he said, tucking his hands behind his head, "But life would be boring if there was no challenge in it. And it doesn't come much more challenging than having someone's life depending on you." He smirked. "Besides, in my case, it would be a criminal waste of talent."

"Oh you..." She gave him a playful slap, "You're incorrigible!"

"Yes, but I'm cute with it," he retorted, giving her his most appealing smile.

"If anyone ever asks me why I love you," giggled Ellie, leaning nearer to kiss him, "I won't be able to answer that either!"

Charles put an arm across her shoulders and returned the kiss. "Does that help give you a clue?" he murmured.

"Mmm, not sure," she said, snuggling closer, "Give me another hint, would you?"

When they came up for air, the symphony had reached the third movement - and they could hear the phone ringing in the hallway.

"Mrs Hall will get it," said Charles.

"Yeah, but it'll be for you," said Ellie, straightening up, and refastening the blouse buttons that seemed to have somehow come undone, "It's always for you, maestro."

"Sure it is," he grinned, "Unless it's Brandy, or Honoria, or Emilia, or Marina, or..."

Mrs Hall knocked on the door and looked in, to put an end to their speculations. "Excuse me, sir - madam. Telephone call for Doctor Winchester."

"Told you," said Ellie, as he got to his feet.

"It's not the hospital, sir," added the housekeeper, "It's a - ah - gentleman who insists that he knows you. Gave his name as Maxwell Q Klinger."

"_What!!?_"

Mrs Hall nodded, tautly. "I'll tell him you're not at home, sir," she said, as though she had been expecting to do that all along.

"No, no, wait! I'll take it - let me see how much he wants!" Charles smiled, shaking his head with amusement as he went out into the passageway and picked up the phone. "Max," he said, "Since my home number's not listed, I must assume your power to beg, wheedle, plead and cajole remains undimmed."

"And it's good to hear you too, Charles," said the familiar voice on the other end of the line, "If you must know, your father gave me your number."

"My... father?" said Charles, faintly, "You talked to my father? And he...?"

"Yeah! He seems like a real nice guy - asked after my mom and my Uncle Abdul. And couldn't thank me enough for saving his son's life." A chuckle. "Funny, I'd forgotten about that."

"I hadn't," said Charles. "How much do you need?"

"Boy, and I was going to kick around a few preliminaries first, like how are ya, and how's things with you?" said Max.

Charles chuckled. "You are quite right, Max, where are my manners?" he said. "I'm fine, my wife's fine, my eldest has a cold and my twins are probably going to get it next. I think that about covers it for the Winchester household. How is Soon-Li? Did you find her parents?"

"Uh, yeah we did, just a couple months back. And now we've got another reason to celebrate – we're expecting our first." Max sounded a little stunned. "Did I hear you right? You've got three kids? Already?"

"Well, I... kind of had a head start," said Charles, explaining briefly about Ellie and Beth.

"Gee, who'da thought?" said Max, when he'd finished. "I guess we both managed to get something good out of Korea in the end, huh?"

"Yes, I guess we did. When's your baby due?"

"Oh, not for a while yet - end of April," said Max, "I'm hoping by then I'll have my electrical repair business all started up and bringing the money home."

"Aha!" laughed Charles, "Which brings us neatly back to my question: how much do you need?"

============================ 

**December 1955**

"Hey! How was Toledo?"

Ellie looked up as Charles came into the nursery carrying Beth, who had run downstairs to meet him. The baby in her arms sneezed, looked startled, sneezed again in unison with her twin, and Ellie cuddled her close and wiped her nose, while Mrs Brunson did the same with the other baby.

"Wet and windy – not unlike it is in here, really," said Charles, with a grin. He put Beth down and crossed the room to kiss Ellie, before lifting the infant from Mrs Brunson's arms. "I'll take her for a while, Mrs Brunson, if you'd like to get some tea," he said, flinching slightly as he got sneezed on. "Looks like I was right about that cold. Now, let's see – you're… Laura?" he said, giving the child a kiss.

"I do believe you're getting the hang of it, sir," said Mrs Brunson, as she left the room.

"So you must be Lauren." Charles sat down, kissed the baby Ellie was holding, and settled Laura on his lap. "It's only taken me five months to get them sorted out."

"Did you get Max sorted out?" said Ellie, keeping a watchful eye on Beth, who had resumed her tea-party with her dolls.

He nodded. "Yes, we've signed all the paperwork. If Soon-Li helps out with the accounts, I think he might actually make a go of it."

Ellie smiled. "Why do you always make out that you're so mean, when you're really a complete teddy bear?" she asked, taking the toy tea-cup Beth was proffering and giving it to Lauren, who turned it upside down, shook it, and dropped it on the floor.

"Because," said Charles, leaning down to pick it up and holding it where Laura could grasp the rim, "If everyone thought I was generous, we wouldn't be able to move for begging letters. So long as people think I'm Ebeneezer Scrooge made manifest, they'll leave us alone."

"Max hasn't!"

"Yes, but Max… He found out about me giving the candy to the orphans. Besides, I still owe him for that Autoclave." He paused while Laura solemnly pulled off her right sock and offered it to him. "Yes, thank you very much, pumpkin," he murmured, handing the sock to Ellie before resuming his conversation with her: "In any case, don't forget I'm not giving him money for nothing. We're in for ten per cent of the profits."

"If any."

"Hah! How true." He grinned. "All the same, I told him there's a clause that increases our take to fifty percent if he so much as breathes a hint to anyone else about where he got the capital from."

Lauren sneezed again, and began to cry. Ellie gently wiped her nose again and lifted her onto her shoulder, patting her back soothingly. "This is sure going to be a fun few days, with both of them poorly," she said.

"I told you we should get another nanny," he said. "Going to listen to me now?"

"Well… maybe," she said, reluctantly, "I do need to find time to practice for that recording I suppose. And we're going to have a visitor next month too."

"A visitor?" Charles smiled. "Brandy coming for the New Year again?"

"No, I told you, she's going to Marina's this year. But Margaret phoned – said she wants to ask you a favour and can she come stay for a few days in January."

"Well, of course but… you mean Margaret and Hawkeye, don't you?"

"No," said Ellie, "Just Margaret. I don't know what the problem is - but she's coming without him."

**_To be Continued…_**


	2. Problems that breed despair

**January 1956**

"They're gorgeous," said Margaret, waving to Beth and the babies as Mrs Brunson and their new nanny, Mrs Stone, carried them off to the nursery, "Bet you're glad you've got those nannies though, Ellie!"

"Well, yeah, they do make life easier," she admitted, closing the drawing-room door and going to sit beside Charles on the sofa, "Though I still feel a bit guilty about handing them over to others to take care of. I was so determined I was going to manage with the minimum of help, but…"

"Two babies and a toddler take some organising!" said Charles, with a smile, "Especially when you have a concerto to practice." He turned to Margaret. "Ellie's recording Rachmaninov's second piano concerto next month with the Boston Symphony," he said, "Would you like us to send you a copy?"

"Of course!" said Margaret, "We loved that last one you sent – the Tchaikovsky? But – well, is there any chance you could you send two this time?"

"Why on earth would you want two?" said Charles, "We only ever keep one ourselves!"

"Well," she said, draining her scotch, "Fact is, we'll be needing one for me and one for Hawkeye. I've got myself a job in Portland, and he wants to stay in Crabapple Cove."

"You're… splitting up?" said Ellie.

Margaret shook her head. "Just for weekdays," she said. "I think it'll do us good, crazy as that might sound. When I moved to the Cove, I thought it would be temporary - just while we got ourselves acclimatised to civilization again. And for a while…" She closed her eyes for a moment, "The peace and the quiet were wonderful – you know?" She looked at Charles, who nodded his understanding. "Trouble is, Hawkeye's got so used to the quiet, he doesn't want to leave it again – but it drives me _nuts_! I'm so used to _doing _things, having responsibilities beyond ordering ear-drops, and keeping the appointments straight – so then I drive Hawkeye nuts, we end up fighting…" She shrugged. "I guess we have one of those 'can't live with each other, can't live without each other' relationships."

"Didn't you always?" Charles smiled, leaning forward to refill her glass.

Margaret acknowledged the truth of that with a wry look, sipped her drink before continuing: "I thought if I applied for the Head Nurse job at Portland General, it would force the issue, make Hawkeye realise his surgical skills are just wasting away. I should have known better."

"But you're taking the job anyway?" said Ellie.

A nod. "I'm not sure who was more surprised when I decided to, Hawkeye or me," said Margaret, "But I can't spend the rest of my days shrivelling up in Crabapple Cove, I just can't." She sighed. "Anyway, I didn't come here to unload my marriage troubles on you. But I do need your help with something else, Charles."

"Ah, the favour you mentioned," he said, sitting back and stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, "Should I unlock my chequebook?"

"It's not about money, you idiot!" Margaret set her glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward, "My father has a heart problem. The doctor's told him he needs an operation and - well, I'd like you to do it. Please."

"Me?" Charles frowned in puzzlement, "Well, of course I'll do it, Margaret, if that's what you and your father want, but… what about Hawkeye? Don't you want him to…?"

"He won't," she said, flatly. "And it has nothing to do with our squabbling. Charles, he hasn't tackled anything more difficult than an appendectomy since he got home. Even if dad trusted him to do it – which he doesn't – Hawkeye wouldn't consider it." She took another sip of her drink. "Besides, you're the expert, aren't you? I saw that paper you wrote for the New England Medical Journal on that improved open heart technique."

Ellie propped her forearm on Charles' shoulder. "He's giving a lecture on it at Walter Reed next month," she said, proudly.

"Before Radar's wedding or after?" said Margaret.

"Before," said Charles, "So I'll be able to tell you all about it."

"Bore us witless, you mean," teased Margaret, with a smile.

"Fine words from someone who wants me to use my magic scalpel on her father," retorted Charles, grinning, "For that I may double my fee!"

"You wouldn't dare," said Margaret, waving a fist at him, "But while we're on the subject – you make sure to charge dad whatever your usual fee is. He's a proud man, Charles, he won't want any favours just because you're a friend of mine."

"Don't worry, Margaret, cutting fees for anyone is simply not in my nature," he assured her. "Have your father call my office and set up a consultation, and I'll see what I can do."

==============================

**February 1956**

"Well," said Charles, closing the office door and flicking open the file in his hand as he went to sit behind his desk, "Your test results indicate that you're well enough for the operation, Colonel Houlihan. Do you have any questions? Anything I can reassure you about?"

"Thank you, Doctor Winchester, but no – I don't want to know any gory details about what you're going to do to me, and it's reassurance enough that I'll be operated on by a doctor who wore his uniform around the MASH compound, instead of a dressing-gown."

"Dad," said Margaret, warningly, "Let's not get into that again – please."

"Yeah, well," growled Alvin, "My abiding memory of the 4077th is of that husband of yours swanning around the place in a purple robe. That friend of his wasn't much better, what was his name – Honeybee?"

"Hunnicutt," chorused Charles and Margaret, exchanging grins.

"That's the one," said Alvin, "I remember noticing the pair of them dealing with some poor chap in a wheelchair on the morning I left, and hoping they wouldn't do him too much damage. Say, what was wrong with that guy anyway? He was all wrapped up in a blanket, couldn't even see his face."

"Ah. Yes," said Charles, trading a glance with Margaret, who looked horrified. "The... North Korean," he improvised, "Beefy chap. Worst case of frostbite I've ever seen."

Margaret made a noise that might have been anything from a choking fit to suppressed laughter, turned it into a cough.

"Frostbite?" said Alvin, "I don't remember it being that cold!"

"Oh, he'd - uh - been up in the mountains," said Charles, "His joints were frozen solid, poor chap. You alright, Margaret?" She'd gone a funny shade of purple, but managed a glare through her amusement. "Anyway, I'm afraid there wasn't anything we could do," said Charles, deciding he'd better change the subject before Margaret hurt herself – or him. "Fortunately, there _is _something I can do to help _you_, Colonel." He re-checked the notes on the desk in front of him, and stood up. "We'll get the operation scheduled for a couple of weeks time, if that's convenient for you? Early March?"

"That'll be fine, doctor." Al Houlihan stood, and shook Charles' hand, "I sure appreciate this."

"Me too, Charles," said Margaret, putting a hand on his arm as he rounded the desk, "And good luck with your lecture next week." She gave him a wink. "See you at Radar's wedding!"

==============================

Draining his tea, Charles sat back in his chair and folded his arms, waiting while Ellie finished her toast. "When I get back from Washington, we'll have to sort out a shortlist from those school brochures I gave you," he said, as she drank her coffee.

Ellie waited until the maid had cleared away the plates and left the room. "For heaven's sake, Charles, Beth's not three yet!" she said, "If we get a decent Governess for her, we don't need to be looking at schools for another three or four years."

"Ah! Now that's where you're wrong!" he said, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on the table, "If she's going to have a hope of getting into one of the best schools, we need to put her name down _now_. The demand for places in these establishments is unbelievable, parents practically beat each other off with polo mallets to get their children into them. Dad had to promise Choat a new gymnasium to get me a place there!"

"Honey, all those brochures are for Boarding schools," said Ellie, "And they're none of 'em even in Massachusetts, let alone Boston! I don't want my girls packed off to the next State for months on end – I want 'em _here_, where I can wave them off every morning, help them with their homework, and kiss 'em goodnight…"

"Ellie, one of the first things you ever said to me regarding Beth was that you wanted her to have a decent education…"

"This isn't up for debate, Charles. My kids are not going to Boarding School!"

"But... those are the best schools in New England!"

"They're. Not. Going. to Board. Anywhere. There must be plenty of good day schools in Boston."

"Good, yes, but I want them to have the best!"

"Would you listen to yourself? I'll bet your father sounded just like that when he was picking out a school for you - 'I want him to have the best.' I'm right, aren't I?" She could tell by his face that she'd struck a nerve. "Were you happy at school?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I got used to it - and I ended up going to Harvard, didn't I?"

"Charles, you'd have ended up at Harvard if you'd gone to school at Dotheboys Hall!"

He shook his head and got to his feet. "If I'm going to get my plane, I have to go," he said, "But this discussion isn't finished yet, Ellie."

"Oh yes it is!" she yelled after him.

"No it's not," he shot back, "We'll resume tomorrow, when I get back."

Her reply was lost as the door slammed behind him.

==============================

**Washington DC**

After an early lunch with Honoria and David - who was eager to tell him all about the new composition he was working on - Charles took a cab to Walter Reed in good time for his lecture. He had time to go through his slides with the projectionist, finding one that was upside-down, and two that were back-to-front, and checked through his notes one last time before going into the lecture hall.

His presentation went well, and as he concentrated on fielding the questions that followed, he was barely aware of the figure crossing the stage to his left until the man handed a piece of paper to Professor Williams, the chairman.

"Uh... ladies and gentlemen, I think this would be a good moment to take a break?" Williams said, apparently oblivious to the fact that Charles was only part way through answering a particularly testing enquiry. As the audience stirred and murmured, he handed the note to Charles. "Sorry to interrupt you, Doctor, but I don't think this should wait," he said, quietly.

Charles frowned, a little alarmed by the other man's tone. Had something happened to one of the children? He took the note, scanned it.

_'Mrs Winchester taken to hospital_,' he read, _'Possible ectopic_.'

"Oh my God!" He looked at the young man who had brought the message. "When did this arrive?"

"Just a few moments ago, sir - your sister telephoned. She also said that she would meet you at the airport with your bags."

Williams took his arm, looking concerned. "I'm terribly sorry, I wish I'd been able to think of a gentler way to break that to you," he said.

"No, it's alright." Charles drew a hand across his forehead, realised he was trembling. "I'm going to need a cab to the airport."

"Dan here will drive you," said Williams, nodding at the messenger. He shook Charles' hand. "Thank you for the lecture, it really was most interesting and I'm very sorry it should have ended like this. I do hope your wife will be alright."

Charles nodded a numb acknowledgement, wishing the man hadn't said 'ended like this'. With a last glance at the emptying lecture hall, he followed Dan off the stage and out to the car.

The journey to the airport seemed to take an eternity, and when he got there he found his brother-in-law waiting by the 'Departures' desk.

"Honoria's phoning the hospital again," said David, "And I've checked the flights. You've just missed one I'm afraid. Next departure to Boston is in three hours."

"Three _hours_!" Charles stared around at the departure boards, as though that was going to make any difference, "I can't stay here for three hours, dammit!"

"You could try Dulles?" David suggested.

"That's miles away!" said Charles, "Even if they have anything going to Boston. No, I have to..." Spotting an airline official going past with a clipboard, Charles grabbed the man by the arm. "Excuse me," he said, "I need to be in Boston right now. Who do I need to speak to about hiring a plane?"

It took Charles a few minutes to convince the man that he wasn't crazy, but eventually he was assured that someone would attend to him. The official scurried off with David, to start putting wheels in motion, and a few moments later Honoria came over. "I phoned the hospital," she said, hugging him, "But they couldn't t..tell me anything m...more yet."

Charles bit his lip, looked around to see whether his plane might be ready, though he knew it had only been a few minutes since he'd enquired about it.

"You're thinking about that argument you had with Ellie?" said Honoria.

He nodded. He'd told her about that earlier on, expecting her to back him up, but to his surprise she had sided with Ellie. "I didn't kiss her goodbye," he said. He'd been regretting that ever since he got on the plane in Boston, but he felt a hundred times worse now. What if…

"Hey," said Honoria, squeezing his arm, "Don't w…worry, I'm sure she'll b…be fine."

"And since when are you a doctor?" he snapped, immediately shook his head in apology. "She could _die_, Honoria, don't you understand? Ellie could die, and I know exactly how it could happen, and what the odds are! Do you have any idea how that feels? And what makes it worse is that there's nothing I can do!" He sat down on the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. "There's nothing I can do. Except wait."

**_To be continued…_**


	3. Hopes and worries

**Boston, Mass.**

"Go home, darling, even if it's only for a few hours. You know Eleanor's in good hands here."

Charles was sitting in a chair next to his wife's bedside, watching her sleep. He knew his mother was right, but he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of Ellie's hand. He'd had no idea that being sick with relief could be a literal effect, until the surgeon had finally emerged from OR and told him that she would be okay. "She haemorrhaged very badly," he'd told Charles, "And I had to perform a salpingectomy. She'll be fine now, although… well, there's no need to tell you, is there? You know what it means just as well as I do."

Yes, he knew. A salpingectomy meant that one of Ellie's fallopian tubes had had to be removed, reducing her chances of having another child by fifty percent at a stroke. But right now, that didn't matter one little bit.

"Charles." His mother's voice was quiet, but he could hear the steely firmness that meant it would be pointless arguing. "Take a shower, shave, change your clothes, rest. Above all, go and see those little girls - especially Elizabeth, she's old enough to understand."

"It's late, mother, she'll be asleep," he said.

"Well - perhaps," she said, then placed a hand on his shoulder: "Though I seem to remember a young man not much older than Beth is now, who sat on the landing half the night waiting for news of his brother."

Charles looked up, a little startled. It was unusual for his mother to talk about Timmy, even indirectly. "I did, didn't I?" He remembered how his father had picked him up, carried him into the nursery, and sat holding him until Charles went to sleep - too tired to keep asking about his brother, but sure that his father wouldn't have let anything bad happen to him. "Alright," he said. A shower and a shave would feel good. "I'll go. Just for a little while."

* * *

The front of the house was in darkness as Charles got out of the car, but as he reached into his pocket for his key the hall light went on and, a moment later, Parks opened the door for him.

"How is Mrs Winchester, sir?" the butler enquired, taking Charles' coat and hat, "We've all been terribly anxious."

Charles nodded his thanks. "She's resting comfortably, Parks, thank you. Are the children alright?"

"Miss Elizabeth has been rather upset, I'm afraid - she saw the ambulance arrive. But I believe Mrs Stone managed to get her settled."

"I'd better go check on them," said Charles, "You can go to bed, Parks. I'll be going back to the hospital later, but I'll let myself out."

Before going upstairs, he went through to the drawing-room and poured a large measure of scotch into a tumbler. Then he remembered that he'd told his driver to go to bed. Besides, it probably wasn't a good idea to start drinking just now – the way he felt, one glass wouldn't be enough.

Carefully and deliberately, he poured the whisky back into the decanter.

When he reached the nursery, the twins were sleeping soundly, and he did no more than graze their foreheads with his lips before creeping out and making his way along the corridor to Beth's room. He thought at first that she was sleeping too, but then the door creaked a little on its hinge, and a little voice mumbled, "Mommy?"

"Hey," he whispered, gently, going across to sit on the bed as Beth peeked over the edge of the eiderdown at him, "Are you still awake, sweetheart?"

She needed no more encouragement than that to dissolve into tears, and Charles gently sat her up and pulled her to him for a hug.

"Mommy's sick," she sobbed, words tumbling out as she clung to him, "I waited and waited, but she didn't come home. And nanny Stone said if I went to sleep, maybe mommy would be here in the morning. So I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn't, and - and then I heard the car. And I thought it was mommy."

"Shh, it's alright, your mommy's not sick any more," said Charles, rocking her in his arms and stroking her hair, "The doctors at the hospital made the pain go away, you don't have to worry now. It's okay, I'm here, I've got you."

He could feel the sobs subsiding as he spoke, and he found his handkerchief, wiped her eyes and nose, and held her close.

"Will she come home tomorrow?"

"No, the doctors will want to keep her in hospital for a few days to make sure she's all better. But perhaps, if she's not feeling too tired, you'll be able to see her. Right now, she's asleep, which is where you should be too, hmm?"

A sniffle. "Will you stay with me?"

"Yes, sweetie, till you're fast asleep. Then I'm going to go back and hold mommy's hand for a while, okay?"

He felt her nod.

"Will you read me a story?"

"I'll have to put the lamp on then. You lie down now... give me a kiss... What story do you want?"

She pointed to one of the books on the bedside table.

"This one? Again?"

"Please, daddy, I like that one."

"Alright. Close your eyes now - that's it." Charles hardly needed to look at the book, he knew it so well, but all the same he opened the well-worn cover and began: "Once upon a time..." By the time the beautiful enchantress had turned the spoiled Prince into a monster on the second page, Beth was sound asleep.

* * *

Back at the hospital, refreshed by his shower and shave, Charles had intended to stay awake the whole night - but when he woke with a crick in his neck and what seemed to be a fold in his spine, he realised that he'd nodded off after all. As he yawned and endeavoured to straighten up, he noticed Ellie's eyelids flickering, and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Hi," she whispered, blinking up at him and squeezing his hand.

"Hi yourself," he said, leaning over to touch her cheek and stroke her hair, "You know you look a hell of a lot prettier than the last patient I stayed up all night with."

"Yeah, well, Max had a broken nose didn't he?"

He kissed her, more gently than he really wanted to, but mindful that she probably didn't much feel like being kissed at all. "I love you," he murmured, "I know I don't say it as much as you'd like, but I do, I truly do. And I was so afraid I wouldn't have the chance to tell you again."

"Love you too," she said, softly, "Oh Charles, I'm so sorry..."

"Sorry?" He realised she was fighting tears, "Ellie, you don't have anything to apologise for!"

"But I... the baby," she gulped, "And dragging you back from Washington..."

"Ellie, none of that was your fault! You nearly died!" He kissed her again. "I thought I was going to lose you, do you think anything else matters apart from your being alright?"

"It was that bad?" She shook her head, "I knew the doctors were concerned - but I was hurting so much I couldn't really take in what they were saying. It's just... one minute they were telling me I was pregnant, and the next they were saying they'd have to... to..."

"It would have killed you, Ellie," he said, quietly, brushing the back of his hand against her wet cheek. "It's me who should be apologising – for that ridiculous argument, for not kissing you goodbye… it was all I could think about on the plane back. If you'd… " He stopped, swallowed hard. "I'd never have forgiven myself."

"Darlin', you mustn't think like that. _I_ didn't kiss _you_ goodbye either, did I?"

"I suppose not," he said, "Ellie, our children can got to school wherever you like. I'll put up the money to build one if I have to. Just so long as you get well."

"Deal," she smiled, tiredly.

The door opened and Ellie's surgeon came in. "I'm just finishing my shift," he said, "But I wanted to look in and see how my patient's doing before I go."

"Ellie, this is Doctor Leonard Scott – he saved your life last night," said Charles, as he stood up.

"I don't know how to start thanking you," said Ellie.

"You don't need to, it's my job." Scott checked the IV and Ellie's pulse, gave her an injection and updated the notes at the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked, "A little tired, I expect?"

"And sore."

"Hmm, well that's to be expected. If the pain gets too bad though, you must tell the nurse, and we'll see about increasing your dosage of morphine. Now I suggest that you get some rest – that goes for you too, Charles."

"Yes, alright Len. Thanks."

As the gynaecologist nodded and went out, Charles picked up his jacket and leaned down to kiss Ellie again. "I'll go and let Beth know you're awake," he said, "And I'll come back this afternoon to see how you're doing."

"Okay. Charles?"

"Yes?"

"Can I still have kids?"

"Just so long as they're mine!" he said, grinning. He sat down again for a moment, and took her hand. "Leonard had to remove one of your fallopian tubes," he explained, "But you have another. If you really want to try filling the rest of those bedrooms, it shouldn't be a problem. Of course, getting you pregnant might take a little more work," he said, giving her a wink, "But that's okay with me!"

"Oh, get outta here," she smiled, her eyes beginning to close again as the medication took effect, "And give the girls a big hug and kiss from me."

"Of course I will – and I'll bring Beth by a little later," he promised, "If I can smuggle her past Reception."

"I'd like that," Ellie murmured, "But we'll miss the Reception anyway…"

"What?" It took Charles a moment to realise that Ellie had misunderstood him, and had just inadvertently reminded him about where they were supposed to be heading tomorrow.

"Oh Lord," he said, "Radar's wedding. I'd forgotten all about it!"

* * *

**Otumwa, Iowa**

There wasn't much room for dancing in the balloon-bedecked Chapel hall so, once they'd had the first dance, Radar and Patty left the space to others, and began to circulate among their guests. The 4077th table was the first one they stopped at, and everyone there stood up to shake Radar by the hand and kiss the bride.

"Gee, it's sure swell of all you sirs to come," said Radar, adding, "And you too, ma'am," in Margaret's direction. "Sure is a pity Major Winchester couldn't make it, I wanted to show him where the cows are going to live and all."

"Cows?" grinned BJ, "Why would Charles care where your cows reside, Radar?"

"Oh. Well, he sent 'em," said Radar, "At least – he and his wife sent one, and his parents sent the other."

"They're a wedding present," Patty explained, "Turned up yesterday in a special truck."

"Yeah, with bells round their necks and everything," Radar enthused, "They're real pretty!"

"And they'll be real useful too," said Patty.

"Oh, er, that's not meaning that the things you've all bought us won't be useful," stuttered Radar, "I mean, uh, we ain't opened 'em yet, but I'm sure they'll be swell."

"Well, when you open them, Radar, at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we brought _our_ presents in _person_," said Hawkeye. He turned to Margaret, "Did Charles say anything to you about not coming?"

She shook her head. "No. I said I'd see him at the wedding, and he nodded. I thought Ellie at least was looking forward to coming, so she could get to meet Radar."

"What did the telegram say, son?" asked Potter, from the opposite side of the table.

"Uh…_unable to make wedding. Unavoidably detained Boston. Congratulations and best wishes,_" quoted Radar, from memory.

"You know what that means, don't you?" said Hawkeye, "He's had a better offer."

"Yeah, like some fellow squillionaire needing an urgent X-ray," said BJ, "And being prepared to pay through the nose for it."

"Know what I think?" said Hawkeye, "I think we should give him a call, tell him what a good time we're having, and inform him that he's mean, pompous and egotistical, and that we never wish to see him again."

"Er…" began Max, stopping suddenly as Soon-Li kicked his ankle.

"I think that's a great idea," said BJ, draining his champagne, "Radar – where can we find a phone?"

In the Minister's little office, behind the Chapel vestry, they found what they were looking for. BJ and Margaret perched themselves on the desk, while Hawkeye took the only chair and put his feet up while he waited for the call to be put through.

"Hello? Hello, is that…uh…Mrs Hall?" he said, sitting up and propping his elbows on the desk as he spoke, "This is Doctor Pierce, one of Doctor Winchester's…oh, you do? Good. Is Doctor Winchester there, please? He's at the hospital?" He gave the others a 'we-were-right' look – then his expression changed as the voice on the other end of the phone added more information. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he said, "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong with her?"

BJ and Margaret looked at him questioningly, and leaned a little closer to the receiver, in hopes of hearing the other end of the conversation. But all they could catch was Hawkeye saying, "I see. Yes. Yes, of course, I understand. Would you ask Doctor Winchester to pass on our best wishes from the 4077th, please? Yes. Thanks very much."

He put the receiver down.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Seems we owe Charles an apology for our unworthy thoughts," said Hawkeye, "He's at the hospital because he's visiting Ellie – she was rushed in two days ago with an ectopic pregnancy."

"Oh my God!"

"Is she okay?" asked BJ.

Hawkeye nodded. "Resting comfortably, but she'll be in the hospital for at least another three days," he said. He switched his gaze to Margaret. "What say we fly back via Boston and pay her a visit?"

"Seems like the least we can do," she agreed, climbing off the desk, "Come on, we'd better go tell the others where he is."

* * *

**Boston, Mass.**

"Margaret! Hawkeye!" Ellie exclaimed, as the door opened and the two familiar faces peered in. "Come on in! What are you doing here?"

"We came to visit, of course," said Margaret, entering the room bearing a huge bouquet of flowers, "When you weren't at the wedding, we called your house."

"Actually, we were all set to give you hell for not turning up," said Hawkeye to Charles, "Sorry."

Charles shrugged. "Hardly the first time you've ever misjudged me," he said, standing up to surrender his chair to Margaret. He was about to sit himself down on the bed next to Ellie, but Hawkeye beat him to it.

"Payback time," said Hawkeye, his eyes twinkling, and leaned down to give Ellie a lingering kiss, just as Charles had done with Margaret a few years before. "Now you've had a kiss from the handsome prince, you'll be better in no time," he said to her.

"It's okay to ignore him, Ellie," said Margaret, placing the flowers on the side-table before settling into the chair.

"Ignore who?" she giggled.

"Hmm," said Hawkeye, standing up and fetching a second chair from the corner of the room, "I must be losing my touch. I guess I'll have to try that again when you're off of the analgesics."

Charles sat down on the opposite side of the bed, and put an arm across the top of the pillows that Ellie was propped up against. "You had your chance, Pierce," he said, "Better quit before you turn back into a toad."

"Hey, don't be too hard on him," said Ellie, touching Charles' hand, "It's sweet of them to come see me after all." She turned to Margaret. "How was the wedding? I'm sorry we missed it."

"Oh, it went so well, and it was just great to see Radar again," said Margaret, moving her chair closer before rummaging in her handbag, "And Patty's so pretty… I've got some photos somewhere."

"Already?"

Hawkeye grinned. "We took the Polaroid – the one that caused all the trouble, Charles, remember?"

"It's still causing trouble," said Margaret, "BJ started teasing that it must be his turn to have it, so you can imagine the bickering _that_ caused!" She found the pictures she was looking for, flourished them with a cry of triumph. "Got them! Here, Ellie, this is a lovely one of the dress."

"Oh, it's beautiful! What is it, satin and lace? And what a gorgeous bouquet."

Charles groaned and stood up. "If you're going to talk frocks and flowers, I'm going to go get us all a coffee."

"I'll come with you," said Hawkeye, following him to the door. He winked at Ellie. "You should have heard Klinger raving about the bridesmaids' dresses! Thought I was back in Korea for a while there!"

Charles led the way to his office, and asked Miss Walters to make a fresh pot of coffee for the four of them. "I'm not supposed to take it along to Ellie's room in case I spill it over somebody in the corridor," he told Hawkeye, "But I haven't let that stop me yet!"

"Yeah, well, you always were a stickler for the rules, Charles," grinned Hawkeye, perching himself on the Secretary's desk. He waited till Miss Walters had left the room to go and fetch some water, then his demeanour changed and became more serious. "So how is Ellie – really?"

"Physically, she's fine," said Charles, leaning against the filing cabinet and folding his arms. He sighed. "But she gets upset about… what happened. She thinks of it as losing a baby and I…" He shrugged, shook his head. "I think of it as something that nearly killed her. I don't know what to say to her, except…" He stopped, switched his gaze to the carpet.

"Except that you love her?" Hawkeye smiled, amused that Charles should be so bashful about it. "Well, in my, you know, _limited_ experience with women, that's usually as good a line as any." He grinned. "Even works with Margaret - sometimes!"

* * *

**March 1956**

"Ellie?" Charles fastened the cord of his dressing-gown as he went into the drawing-room, "It's nearly one o'clock in the morning, darling, you shouldn't be out of bed. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said, looking around from her seat in the easy chair by the fire, as he crossed the room toward her, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I lost track of the time."

"I'm not surprised," he said, catching sight of the glass in her hand, and the decanter on the table next to her. "Ellie, how many of those have you had?"

She swallowed the dregs left in the tumbler and put it down before answering his question. "I haven't actually been counting, but I haven't had enough to get drunk. Not nearly enough."

"But… why would you want to?" He knelt in front of her and took her hand, "Is this about the baby again?"

Ellie nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "It's just… with Beth's birthday coming up, I… found myself reckoning up when it would have been due and…" She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"You should have woken me," chided Charles, gently, "Not come to sit down here by yourself."

"You're operating on Margaret's father tomorrow," she said, "I mean… today. I didn't want to disturb you. We've been over and over it before, I know, and besides..."

"Besides what?"

Ellie shook her head. "I know you don't feel it the way I do. Do you?"

"No," he admitted, "No, I don't. I can't. Not after spending five of the longest hours of my life wondering whether you'd pull through the operation. I couldn't think beyond losing you, Ellie. I still can't. Sweetheart, we have three beautiful children, and there's no reason we shouldn't have more if you want to." He reached up to brush a tear from her cheek. "I love you, Ellie. I can't grieve for an unborn child that very nearly killed you. I'm sorry."

Ellie sniffed, pulled a crumpled hankie from her dressing-gown pocket and blew her nose. "I keep imagining what happened to it - you know... afterwards? I wonder if it was a boy or a girl, and I think of how much you'd love to have a son. And then I think... what if it happens again? That'll be it, right? No more kids?"

"Ellie, the chances of it happening again are ridiculously small, you mustn't keep worrying about that."

"Yeah, I know, you've told me before," she said, letting him pull her to her feet and leaning against him as he guided her back to their bedroom, "But right now, I'm not sure what scares me more: getting pregnant again - or not."

* * *

In his office, Charles took off his jacket, pulled on his white coat, and was taking one last look through Alvin Houlihan's file when his secretary phoned through to tell him that Mrs Pierce was waiting to see him.

"Send her in," he instructed, turning to greet Margaret as she came in. "Morning, Margaret. Sleep well?"

"Not a wink," she said, "Despite Uncle Bob and Aunt Vi's best efforts – whisky, hot milk, a nice warm bath before bedtime…"

He smiled. "Nice to know that you have such confidence in my abilities."

She folded her arms. "Charles, it's a heart operation. Stand there and tell me there's absolutely no risk at all."

He put the file down, and put his hands on her shoulders. "You know I can't do that. Of course there's a risk, Margaret, just as there's a risk with any operation. I've explained all about that to your father. He's a soldier, he understands about risk-taking. So do you. But I can promise you that he stands a better chance with me operating on him than anyone else in the States."

"Only 'the States'?" she asked, "Not the entire wood?"

He grinned. "Give me time!" He glanced at the clock on the wall, and placed a kiss on her forehead, "And give me some time? I need to get ready now."

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you…"

"Margaret, it's hardly a problem – we didn't used to get the luxury of having patients' notes to read, did we? But I do like to read them through now that I have the chance."

"You know he's allergic to penicillin, don't you?" she said, as she turned to go.

"Yes, Margaret."

"Oh, and his blood pressure…"

"Margaret! I _can_ read!"

She shrugged him a sheepish apology. "I'll see you later," she said, heading for the door.

Charles opened the door for her and told her again not to worry. As he closed the door behind her, he wished he could stop worrying about what he would do if he had to tell her something went wrong.

**_To be continued…_**


	4. Familiar names, familiar faces

"Doctor Winchester?" 

Charles didn't even glance up, though he was aware that the query had come from a nurse who had just entered the OR from the scrub room. "I really don't need any interruptions just now, nurse."

"Sorry, doctor. But Doctor Richards says he needs your help as soon as possible, please. Car accident victim, a young boy."

Charles swore under his breath. Bad enough these things had to happen at all, but why did they have to happen at the worst possible time too?

"I can't do this in less than half-an-hour," he said, "Tell Richards I'll be with him as soon as I can."

"Yes, doctor."

It was another twenty-eight minutes before Charles stepped back from the patient and told the Resident assisting him to close. "And when you're finished here, tell his daughter he's come through the operation," he added, "She's in the waiting room. Let her know I have another patient, will you?" 

==============================

Entering the Intensive Care room, Charles went across to Al Houlihan's bed and picked up the notes from the end rail. "Hello," he said, quietly, as Margaret got up from the chair by her father's bedside and came over to him. "How's he doing?"

"You're supposed to tell me, aren't you?" she smiled.

"You can take a pulse just as well as I can, Margaret," he said, though he moved across to check it anyway, "Don't tell me you haven't been checking it all afternoon."

"It's steady," she said, confirming what Charles' own fingers were telling him, "And strong. His colour's good." She waited till he'd finished his checks, then reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Charles."

"He's not out of the woods yet," cautioned Charles, consulting his watch and jotting an entry on the notes, "But so far so good."

"How's the little boy?" said Margaret, "The other doctor told me you'd had to go help."

Charles missed the hook that the notes went on, took a second try, succeeded on the third.

"Charles?"

"He died." He took a breath, let it out slowly. "The internal damage was just... too much for his system to cope with. There wasn't anything we could do."

"Oh, hell. I'm sorry." She looked around at her father, who was sleeping peacefully. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I don't know where the nearest bar is."

He shook his head. "I've just had to tell that boy's mother that her son's dead," he said, "Because some drunk in a car smashed into them. So you'll forgive me if I feel a little queasy at the thought of liquor just at the moment. If you'd like a coffee, though, we can adjourn to my office for a while. I'm due a break."

Back in his office, Charles took the coffee cups Miss Walters brought in, handed Margaret hers, and sat down next to her on the sofa. "God, I hate days like this," he said, "I don't mean your dad..."

"No, I understand," she said, "Losing a patient's always upsetting, but kids - they're the worst."

Charles nodded. "He was only four," he said, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. He sighed. "At least he wouldn't have known much about it, poor little beggar."

"Charles - would it have made any difference if you hadn't been... busy when they brought him in?"

He thought for a moment, knowing she wouldn't appreciate a glib response. "No. No, it was always going to be futile, I think. We just had to try..." He sighed, sipped his drink. "Now I've got to go back downstairs and tell that drunken half-wit what he's done."

"Couldn't one of the Junior Doctors do that?"

"Of course," he said, "But I want to see that moron's face when I break the news to him."

He drained the last of his coffee, and Margaret did the same. "Charles, will it be okay for me to stay with dad tonight?" she said, "I know it's not SOP, but…"

Charles smiled. "I could waste my breath saying 'no', but since your 'uncle' Bob's office is only a few doors along, and since telling you that you can't do something is tantamount to giving you a green light, I might as well just cave in now," he said. "Though you might want to consider availing yourself of my couch over there, if you'd rather? My back's still recovering from sitting up all night with Ellie, so it's not exactly something I'd recommend."

"Oh, Charles, I'm sorry! I've been so worried about dad, I haven't even asked you how she is!"

"Well, she's recovered physically," he said, "But she still gets a bit down sometimes. Maybe you'd have time for a visit tomorrow, I know she'd love to see you."

"I'd like that."

"You can come for dinner, if your aunt doesn't already have plans?"

"I'm sure that'll be fine."

"Good. Then I'll tell Ellie to have a fatted calf slain," he grinned, getting to his feet. "I'll look in on your dad again before I go home, and let the duty nurse know it's okay for you to be there," he promised, leading the way back to the main wing, "Meanwhile – I have an inebriate to rebuke."

==============================

As Charles collected the notes from the end of the bed, the patient stirred and moaned, indicating his medication was starting to wear off.

Charles figured the morphine could wait for a few minutes, and went to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Where am I?" said the man, squinting up at him from beneath a mop of unruly curls that clearly hadn't seen a barber for months.

"Boston Mercy," said Charles, "Do you remember anything about how you got here?"

After a moment's thought, the patient shook his head, wincing at the gentle movement. "Guess I was outta my head again," he said, looking down the bed toward his tractioned left leg. "What'd I do this time? Punch another cop?"

"Not so far as I know," said Charles. "What you _did_ do was get into a car and 'steer' it, if I can use that term, into the side of another vehicle. One that contained a small boy and his mother."

"Oh, Christ!" The man's eyes widened with shock. "Are they okay?"

Charles shook his head. "I'm afraid the boy died on our operating table," he said. "You can judge for yourself how his mother is."

The man's face contorted with an agony that Charles was sure could not be attributed to the broken leg. "I trained to be a doctor," he said, "I wanted to save lives, not…"

Charles glanced down at the notes on the clipboard, to check the man's name. _John McIntyre_. Now why did that…?

He hesitated for a moment, then said: "Trapper?"

McIntyre's jaw sagged open, and he stared up at Charles in utter confusion. "How d'you know that?" he croaked.

"I was Major Burns' replacement at the 4077th," said Charles, "Fortunately for all concerned, I happen to be as brilliant as he was incompetent." A beat. "But I still couldn't save that boy today."

"God, don't rub it in," said McIntyre, "I feel bad enough as it is." He bit his lip. "How old was he?"

Charles paused before he replied. He was beginning to feel sorry for the man – after all, as Ellie was so fond of pointing out, he could still put away a fair amount of alcohol himself when the mood took him. Though never when he had to drive. "He was four," he said adding, with a sigh, "He wouldn't have known anything about it."

"Not much consolation to his mother, is it?" McIntyre turned his head away. "I feel sick."

"Yes, well, as a father myself, I'd say that's no more than you deserve, and that I hope your leg's giving you hell too," said Charles, standing up, beckoning to the nurse, and making a note on the chart. "But as a doctor, I'll have to give you something to help you sleep."

"Doc?"

"Yes?"

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Charles Emerson Winchester," he said, administering the morphine the nurse brought over, "I'm Head of Thoracic Surgery here."

"I coulda done that," said McIntyre, "Once. Long time ago. I coulda done that." He heaved a sigh. "D'you know what's really awful?" he asked, as Charles returned the chart to its rightful place. He grimaced. "I could really use a drink."

==============================

Trapper came round slowly, hoping his conversation with that Winchester guy had just been a bad dream. But the pain in his leg was real enough and, when he opened his eyes and saw he was indeed in a hospital ward, the other pain returned – the one he knew he'd never recover from: the boy...

With a sigh, he turned his head to look around a little – and found a very familiar figure sitting in the chair beside him.

"Hawkeye? What…? How…?"

"Margaret called me," said Hawkeye, "And I got on the first plane over here. How are you doing, Trap?"

"I'm kinda confused at the moment. How'd Margaret know I was here?"

"She was upstairs when you were brought in, visiting her father. Charles had just performed a heart operation on him. So when Charles realised who you were, he told Margaret, and she phoned me."

"Oh. You two kept in touch then?"

"Yeah, you could say that. We're still married anyway."

"Oh man. I don't think I can take any more shocks – unless you're going to tell me you named your eldest kid 'Trapper'."

"No. Well, not yet anyway – we don't have any kids." Hawkeye shrugged. "Maybe just as well – Margaret works in Portland most of the week, she just kinda visits me at weekends." He paused. "Would it be awkward of me to ask where Louise is?"

"I wish I knew," said Trapper, "At least then I'd know where my girls are." He sighed, shook his head. "It was all my own fault, Hawk, I know that – too many women, too much drink – but not to let me even see my kids…"

"Was that why… uh…?" Hawkeye gestured at the plaster cast, obviously at a loss to put the rest of it into words.

"I don't know. I guess that was part of it." Trapper looked away. "I stopped needing a reason to drink a long time ago. But I'm trying to promise myself never to drink again. Not after this. I don't know how I'm going to live with myself."

"Well, first thing you've got to do is get better," said Hawkeye, "Then, if you like, you can come stay with dad and me for a while out at the Cove. Just till you get yourself sorted out."

"That sounds good," he said, still unable to meet his friend's gaze, "Can I think about it?"

"Sure. It's not like you'll be going anywhere for a while yet."

Trapper nodded, gratefully. For now though, he needed a change of subject. "I still can't believe you and Margaret got spliced," he said, "And what happened to Frank? Who's this Winchester guy? Did Klinger ever get that Section 8 he was bucking for?…"

==============================

**May 1956 - Crabapple Cove**

As Margaret lifted her bag of groceries from the car and walked up towards the house, she could see Hawkeye and Trapper waving to her from the porch.

"Hey Margaret!" Hawkeye waved an envelope, "Letter from Sherm!"

"That's great, how is he?" she said, as she strode up the steps. She gave Hawkeye a quick kiss and pulled Trappers hat down over his eyes by way of greeting.

"Don't know - thought we'd wait till you got home to open it," said Hawkeye.

"In that case, I'll pour myself a... uh... lemonade, and I'll be right back," she said, leaning against the front door to push it open.

"Margaret, I've told you before, if you want a real drink, have a real drink," called Trapper, straightening his hat - but when she came out again she was carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses on it.

"Daniel down at the creek again?" she asked.

"Yep. He's promised us a fat trout for supper," said Hawkeye.

"Hah!" Margaret poured the drinks and handed them round. "Good thing I bought us some steaks then."

"Oh ye of little faith." Hawkeye put his feet up on the porch rail, took a sip of lemonade, and flourished the envelope. "Roll up, roll up for the grand opening!" he announced, loudly.

"Oh, stow it," said Margaret, good-naturedly, sitting herself down in Daniel's rocking-chair, "Come on, what's the news?"

"Okay, okay." Breaking open the envelope and unfolding the letter, Hawkeye read out loud:

_'Dear Margaret and Hawkeye,  
Sorry for not writing sooner, things have been kind of busy around here.   
I finally let Mildred talk me into putting up that white picket fence she's always wanted, and my painting hand was so tired I couldn't hold a pen for a fortnight! Still, it looks real nice, and Mildred's happy as a horse in hay, so I guess it was worth all the hard work. Next on her list of Things To Do is clearing out the garage, but the river's full of fish practically begging to be brought ashore, and my grandson's coming to stay next weekend, so I'm hoping Mildred will forget about the garage for a while!  
Guess you heard from the Klingers? Max sent me a whole box of cigars, and a picture of baby Lee - thankfully, the little guy seems to have his mother's nose!'_

"Yeah, we noticed that too!" grinned Trapper.

Hawkeye laughed, nodding, and went on with the letter:

_'I also had a letter from Father Mulcahy, and I wonder if he might have the solution to your friend Trapper's search for "something meaningful to do" as you put it in your last letter. Our good Father is handing over care of the orphanage to a younger priest in a couple of months, and returning to the States to work with deaf children, including - get this - making sure they get excellent medical care. Now, I don't know what Mulcahy has in mind, but seems to me it would help both him and your friend if they maybe hooked up with this? If Trapper's willing to consider the idea, why not drop the Father a line? I know he'd love to hear from you anyway, and I never knew him turn down a sincere offer of help - especially if the helper was benefiting too.  
Anyway, I better get this finished - I can smell Mildred's lamb roast a-cooking, and I sure don't want that spoiling!  
Love to you both, and my best to Trapper.  
Sincerely,  
Sherman.'_

"Father Mulcahy?" mused Trapper, "Well - I guess I've heard worse ideas."

"Told you the Colonel was one of the good guys," said Hawkeye, folding the letter and putting it back in the envelope. "Now all we have to do is remember where we put Father Mulcahy's address!"

==============================

**June 1956 - Boston**

"Your three o'clock appointment has cancelled, Doctor," said Miss Walters, as Charles entered the office. "I've been in touch with your four o'clock, and he thinks he can be here by three-thirty."

"Thanks. Will that be the last one for today?"

"Yes doctor." She passed him a pile of papers, "Though I'm afraid these will all need your signature before you leave."

He sighed. Paperwork! Why was there never any end to it? "Any messages?"

"Your sister. She asked if you'd call back. Would you like me to put the call through?"

"Please."

He went through to his own office, threw the papers into the 'in' tray and dropped into his chair. Honoria must have been practically sitting on the telephone at her end, as the phone buzzed almost immediately with his call.

"You rang?" he said.

"Yes! I couldn 't w..w...wait to t...t...t...t..."

"Tell me?" It had been drilled into Charles from an early age that he Must Not Finish Honoria's Sentences for her, but there were occasions when breaking the rule seemed to be the only way to move the conversation on.

"Yes. Suh...sorry."

"Honoria, calm down. Breath control, remember?"

"It's the excitement," she said, after a moment, "You're g...going to b...b...be an uncle."

"That's wonderful!" he laughed, "My congratulations to you both. When's it due?"

"B...beginning of December," she said, "I already phoned m...mother, but will you t...tell Ellie?"

"You don't want to tell her yourself?" he asked, puzzled.

"Charles, for such an intelligent guy, you can be really suh...stupid sometimes."

"What on earth do you mean by that?"

"I mean - she just lost a p...pregnancy a couple of months ago. I should think the last thing she n...needs right now is to hear me happily informing her that I'm having a b...baby."

"Oh. I see what you mean."

The door opened after the briefest of knocks, and his secretary looked in, 'emergency' written on her face even before she spoke. "Accident at the docks," she said, "Ship brought a crane down, there's going to be casualties coming in at any minute."

"Gotta go, sis, I'll call," he said, throwing the receiver in the direction of its cradle and rushing out. So much for the hope of an early night! he thought.

==============================

"Thanks, Parks," said Charles, as the butler let him in. He looked around the empty hall, surprised that Beth hadn't stampeded to meet him as she usually did, "Where is everyone?"

"Breakfasting on the terrace, sir. Shall I take your jacket?"

"You can take the tie too," said Charles, pulling at the knot, "And then bring me out a Full English Breakfast would you?"

He made his way through the house and out onto the terrace. Beth was sitting with her back toward him, and he managed to surprise her for a change by putting his hands over her eyes and saying "Guess who?"

"Daddy!" She dropped her spoon and half-turned to throw her arms around his neck, "Ugh, you're all bristly!" she added, pulling away.

"Yes I expect I am," he grinned, moving around the table to drop a kiss onto each of the twins' heads before leaning down to kiss Ellie, who was sitting in between them. "I haven't had time to shave since yesterday."

"Have you been out _all night_?" said Beth, her blue eyes round with amazement.

"Daddy's been very busy at the hospital," said Ellie, "Making those people better who were underneath that crane. Remember, we saw the pictures on the TV?" She turned to Charles, as he pulled up a seat between Lauren and Beth, "It was all over the news," she said, "Looked like a real mess."

"It was." He waited while the maid filled a tall glass with orange juice for him, and took a long draught of it. "I can't figure out how a ship gets smashed into a dock like that," he said. "I thought they were supposed to have pilots, coming into harbour?"

"Pilots fly airy-planes," said Beth, knowingly, putting her own juice down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "A _Captain_ parks the ship."

"_Docks_ the ship, honey," said Ellie, "And use your napkin, there's a good girl. Laura, don't chew your bib, darlin', I know there's egg on it but I really don't think you'll like it." She stood up and lifted the baby out of the high chair. "Come on, you and Lauren can show daddy your new trick." She set Laura down for a moment, repeated the exercise with Lauren, then stood them both up, holding them gently around the waist. "Okay," she said, when they'd got their balance, "Now go to daddy."

They only needed to take a few steps, but they made them on their own, and Charles laughed delightedly, picking them up and resting one twin on each knee to give them a kiss. "And you're only eleven months old," he said, "Obviously the superior Winchester genes are making themselves felt again."

Ellie made a face at him, and Beth giggled.

"Er... speaking of Winchester genes," he said, "I had a call from Honoria earlier - I mean, yesterday. She's..." He glanced at Beth. "Uh...expecting," he finished, as delicately as he could manage.

"Oh." For just a moment a shadow crossed Ellie's face, then she shook her head and managed a smile. "When?"

"What?" said Beth, climbing down from her chair and tugging on Charles' sleeve.

"Early December," he said to Ellie, passing the twins back to her one at a time as he noticed Parks exit the French windows bearing a tray. "She wanted me to tell you. She thought you might be - um..."

"Upset?"

"Yes."

"But _what_?" said Beth again.

"Thank you, Parks," said Charles, inhaling the aroma of bacon, sausage, mushrooms, eggs, tomatoes and hash browns, and pulling his chair closer to the table. "Are you?" he said to Ellie.

"Upset?" She sat down, cradling the twins. "No, of course not, I'm happy for her and David. I am a little... envious, I guess." She looked at the babies. "I know I've no cause to be, really, but..."

"Daddy!" Beth stamped her foot. "_What's_ Aunt 'Noria 'specting?"

"Beth, I'm talking to your mother," he said, as he scattered salt onto his breakfast, "You must learn to wait your turn."

"But I want to know _now_!"

"If you don't wait your turn," he said, patiently, "We won't be going on holiday."

Her eyes lit up. "Holiday? Where we going?"

Charles pointed his knife in the direction of her chair. "Sit down and finish your toast," he said, "While I talk to mommy. Or we won't be going anywhere."

"Ohhh. It's not fair." Beth scuffed her shoes on the ground as she reluctantly turned around, but she did as she was told.

Charles concentrated on his food for a few minutes, trying to remember when he'd last eaten. Lunch time yesterday, was it? "Sorry," he said to Ellie, between mouthfuls, "I probably should have waited till I could give you my full attention."

"It's okay," she said, passing the twins to Mrs Stone, who had come out to collect them, "We can talk later, once you've had some sleep. But what's this about a holiday?" She held a hand out toward Beth, who scrambled off her chair and trotted round the table to climb onto her lap.

"Well," he said, sipping his tea, "I thought the children might like - uh - well - Disneyland."

"You big softie!" said Ellie, unable to disguise her giggle, "After everything you've said about California!"

"Is that where Mickey Mouse lives?" said Beth, excitedly.

"Yes, honey, and Sleeping Beauty's castle's there too, I think," Ellie replied.

"Will Snow White be there? With all the dwarves? And what about Dumbo the ephelant?"

"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see won't we? Charles, when's this happening?"

"Beginning of July," he said, "Before the schools finish for the summer." He drained his tea and put his cutlery down on his empty plate. "We can stay on the coast – might as well make use of some of the property I invested in over there." He yawned, rubbed his eyes. "I'd better go and get some sleep," he said, placing another kiss on Beth's red-gold curls, "For a few hours anyway." He brushed a hand across Ellie's fringe. "Will you be okay?"

"Of course I will," she said, taking his hand for a moment, "Once I've got Beth organised, I'll phone Honoria myself. Go lie down, before you fall down!"

As he walked back towards the house, Charles could hear Beth's voice protesting: "Ohhh. I still don't know what Aunt 'Noria's 'specting! Nobody tells me anything!"

==============================

"Did I miss lunch, Mrs Hall?" said Charles, spotting the housekeeper in the library as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"No sir. The girls have eaten, but Mrs Winchester said she'd wait for you," she replied, placing a pile of books on the table and moving to the library door as she spoke. "It's all ready though, just needs serving."

"Thanks. I'll let Ellie know," said Charles, turning towards the music room while the housekeeper made for the kitchen. He could hear Mendelssohn's _Spring Song _being played and realised he'd not heard Ellie practice anything that cheerful for some time.

"Hi," she said, breaking off in mid-arpeggio as he went in, "Did you sleep okay? I thought the phone might have woken you."

"Didn't hear a thing till the alarm clock went off," he said, leaning down to kiss her, "Who phoned? Not Max asking for money was it?"

Ellie smiled. "No, it wasn't. Your mother called. She's asked me to play at her Annual Charity Concert this year."

"For Timmy's Memorial Foundation you mean? You're honoured!"

"Yeah, that's what I said to her," said Ellie, getting to her feet and closing the piano lid. "Anyway, it gave me an idea. There's gotta be research going on into, you know, why ectopics happen, why some women miscarry all the time, right?"

"Pre-natal research, yes of course. Harvard's been doing work in that field for a while, but..."

"Don't tell me - they're always short of funds?"

Charles put his hands on his hips. "Is this conversation heading where I think it's heading?"

She was grinning. "In the direction of giving some of our money away for a good cause? You betcha. Another Winchester Foundation, to help fund the work at Harvard, what do you say?"

"Well, I'd need to give it some thought," he said, but he already knew what his answer would be. Ellie's eyes were alight with a life and enthusiasm that hadn't been there since she came back from the hospital. She needed to do this, he realised, just as his mother had needed to start up her charity for helping bereaved parents.

Before he could say anything further though, Ellie put her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Thanks," she said.

"Ellie, all I said was..."

"Yeah, I heard, but you're going to say yes. I know you are."

Charles sighed, and returned the hug. "I must be getting soft in my old age," he said.

==============================

**July 1956, Disneyland, California**

BJ helped Erin and Beth climb out of the Giant Teacup ride, while Charles turned off his cine camera and collected the twins from Ellie and before helping her step down herself.

"So, what would you like to go on next?" asked BJ

"The flying ephelants," said Beth, pointing, while Erin nodded agreement

BJ grinned. "Yeah, they do look kind of fun, don't they? You two lead the way then, but not too fast - remember, Ben and the twins can't walk as fast as you."

"Not for lack of trying!" said Ellie, holding on to the reins as the twins set off determinedly after the two older girls. Beside her, Peg was holding fast to her two-year-old's hand.

"One for you after that, Ben," said BJ, looking at his map, "The Astro-jets are just over there."

"And then perhaps a little poker on the Mark Twain Riverboat?" said Charles, looking over BJ's shoulder as they walked.

"Yeah!" laughed BJ, "Followed by a hold-up on the Disneyland Railroad to pay off our losses!"

"Escaping by submarine," nodded Charles, pointing at the '20,000 Leagues under the Sea' ride.

Peg sighed. "Do you think there's any chance those husbands of ours will ever grow up?" she said to Ellie.

Ellie laughed and shook her head. "Not a chance. To think I actually believed Charles when he said this holiday was for the children!"

"Gotta admit though, it is fun, isn't it?" Peg steered her son away from the Mickey Mouse balloon which another child was holding, and added: "Exhausting – but fun!"

"And all the better for you and BJ coming too," said Ellie.

"Well, we've been intending to come since it opened," said Peg, "But I don't know if we'd have gotten around to it yet if you hadn't called."

Just then, Lauren decided that she didn't want to walk any further, and sat down in the middle of the path, prompting Laura to do the same.

"Aw, come on girls. You know, if you hadn't both screamed so hard when we tried to put you in those pushchairs back at the entrance, daddy would have hired them," Ellie told them, "Then you wouldn't _have_ to walk, would you?"

"I guess they're used to being together," said Peg.

"Yeah, well, I can't carry 'em both." Ellie raised her voice to call to Charles, who was up ahead with BJ, Erin and Beth. "Hey! Need some help here!"

Charles ambled back, smiling, and picked up Lauren, while Ellie collected Laura. "I don't think they'll have any difficulty sleeping tonight," he said, adjusting the baby's sunhat as she clung to the camera strap on his shoulder.

"Me either!" said Ellie, "And I'll bet I dream of flying elephants too!"

"Speaking of flying," said Peg, quietly, as Charles caught up to BJ again, "Is it true that Charles hired a plane back from Washington when you were ill?"

"Who told you that? You been talking to Margaret?" said Ellie.

"Uh-huh. We were both sighing down the phone about how romantic it was," said Peg.

"I don't know about that, I think he just couldn't stand to hang around Washington airport for three hours," said Ellie - though she knew her silly grin betrayed her own feelings on the subject.

"I guess things really worked out for you two, huh?"

"Yeah," said Ellie, kissing Laura, and watching Charles take Beth's hand as she chattered excitedly up at him, "They really did."

==============================

"Who are you phoning so early?" said Ellie, as she emerged from the bathroom in a towel wrap, drying her hair on a handtowel. "Don't tell me you're giving BJ and Peg a wake-up call. They're only in the next room!"

"I'm calling Boston," said Charles, briefly placing his hand over the receiver, "Have to allow for the time difference, remember?"

"Okay, but who..."

Whoever he was phoning must have lifted the receiver just then, as Charles, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, stood up and turned his attention to his call.

"Paul? Hi, Charles Winchester... Fine, fine. How's Anne? Good. Paul, I'm calling long-distance - yes... California... I know, but the children are loving it. Listen, I'm going to be sending you some postcards of - now don't laugh - Sleeping Beauty's castle at Disneyland... I knew you'd laugh. Well, hey, if you don't want the commission... Aha! Well, now I have your attention - I'd like you to build a miniature of it in my garden."

Ellie remembered now. 'Paul' was the name of an architect friend of Charles'. She put the handtowel aside and began to comb her hair, still listening.

"I thought perhaps behind the summer-house? Yes... For my daughters to play in. Maybe with a little bedroom for their dolls on the first floor, and some kiddy-size chairs and tables in the room downstairs? What? Well, pink of course! Uh-huh... Do you think you could have it finished in time for Christmas? Great! Okay... See you when I get back. Bye." He was grinning as he put the phone down. "Do you think they'll like that?" he said.

Ellie put her comb back on the dresser and walked around the bed to put her arms around his neck. "They'll love it," she said, kissing him, "And that's to show you what I think of your idea!"

"Mmmm. You really shouldn't kiss me like that when you're dressed in a towel," said Charles, kissing back.

Smiling, Ellie let the towel fall to the floor. "That any better?" she said, kissing him again.

"I thought we were going to get an early start," he murmured, pulling her closer and placing little butterfly kisses over her face and neck.

"We are," she giggled, pulling him back onto the bed, "Aren't we?"

**_To be continued…_**


	5. 5 years on: the reunion

**Saturday 26th July 1958, Portland, Maine**

The arrivals lounge at Portland's airport was crowded, but BJ had no trouble spotting his old friend – Hawkeye was wearing his blue Hawaiian shirt, and was waving like a maniac. Margaret was less flamboyantly dressed, but no less enthusiastic in the waving stakes.

"Hey, how are you?" said BJ, as they hugged, "Good to see you again, Hawk. How are you, Margaret? You look terrific!"

"Good to see you too," said Hawkeye. He slapped BJ on the shoulder, pulled away to hug Peg.

BJ hoisted four-year-old Ben into his arms. "Remember your uncle Hawkeye, son? And auntie Margaret?"

The youngster shook his head, but his sister was much less inclined to be reticent, ran forward into Hawkeye's arms. "Hi, uncle Hawk," she said. "Hi auntie Margaret. I like your dress."

"Thank you, sweetheart, you look very smart too."

"Hey, Erin, look how you've grown!" Hawkeye took her hand and collected one of the cases with his free hand. "Let's get you back to my house, shall we? Your auntie Margaret's going to wait here for a while." He looked over at BJ. "The Potters' plane's arriving in a half-hour or so."

"Great!" said BJ, "See you in a little while then, Margaret."

Hawkeye led the way through the airport to the car park, helped BJ put the bags in the trunk. while Peg and the children settled into the back seat

"So, who else is coming?" said BJ, getting into the car.

"Max and Soon-Li said they wouldn't miss it, and they'll catch a lift from Boston with Charles."

BJ laughed. "How? I mean, assuming Ellie and the kids are coming too – does he have a station wagon or something?"

"You're kidding – Charles? More likely a stretch limo, I should think!" said Hawkeye. He shrugged, steered the car onto the main road toward the coast and Crabapple Cove. "I don't know, Beej, I'm just telling you what Max said. We'll find out soon enough, he said they were aiming to get here mid-morning. How was your journey anyway? Kids behave?"

"Ben got a little airsick," said Peg, "But otherwise they've been pretty good, on the whole."

The trip passed quickly as they caught up on each others news and reminisced about old times. Before long, they were turning onto the track that led to Crabapple Cove.

"Hawk," said BJ, "Did you know there's a ship in your harbour?"

"What?" Hawkeye glanced out over the bay, braked to a halt at a spot where a break in the trees gave a clear view of the cove, and the impressive-looking boat that lay at anchor there. He looked at BJ. "He wouldn't."

BJ quirked an eyebrow at him.

"He would," they both said together.

"I don't believe it," said Hawkeye, putting the car back into gear and turning off the main track and down toward the quay.

By the time they drew to a halt and climbed out of the car, a small launch carrying some very familiar figures was already approaching. BJ could see the Klingers waving, gave a hearty wave back, and led the way along the jetty to catch the rope thrown up to him by the crewman in the stern of the boat. He helped little Lee and Soon-Li step out, gave her a quick hug before turning his attention back to the launch. Charles took off the children's lifejackets and passed the youngsters up to Hawkeye, then helped Ellie, who was carrying their youngest in a sling. "How do you like the yacht?" he said, as he stepped ashore himself and picked up his twins.

"Yacht?" said BJ, giving Ellie a hug, "I thought you'd hired the _Queen Mary_ for the weekend!"

Charles grinned, obviously pleased that their entrance had made an impression, but was then distracted by the small figure tugging at his shirt. "Go with mommy, Beth, I don't have a spare hand at the moment," he said. "Now, what do you two have to say to uncle BJ and uncle Hawkeye?" he prompted the twins.

"'nk you for the presents."

"For our birthday."

"They were lovely," said Ellie, "It was real kind of you."

"Ah, it's nothing," said BJ, "But what we _should_ have bought them was labels - I still can't tell them apart."

"This," said Charles, hefting the girl on his left arm, "Is Laura. And this," – repeating the process with the one on his right – "Is Lauren."

"And this is the new boy!" said Hawkeye, letting go of Klinger's handshake, and wandering over to take a peek at the baby in Ellie's arms, "Elliot, isn't it?"

Ellie nodded. "Elliot Timothy," she said, "We thought three Charles Emersons was enough."

"Personally, I'd say _one_ of them was enough," smiled Hawkeye, gently taking the baby's right hand in his and pretending to give him a handshake. "He's a cute little fella, isn't he? I see he's got your hair, Charles."

Charles pulled a face and rolled his eyes. "As ever, your wit and originality continue to astound me," he said.

BJ smiled at the familiar banter, and turned his attention to Beth. "Hi there. Remember me?" he asked, kindly.

"You're…um…JB," she said, gazing up at him.

BJ grinned. "Close enough. What do you think of your baby brother?"

"He's okay," she said, with a shrug, "But he cries real loud." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked: "Is Erin with you?"

"She sure is," said BJ, holding out his hand for her to take, "Come on, we'll go find her, shall we?"

-

Behind him, Charles lowered the twins to the ground. "You're getting heavy," he told them, before turning to Hawkeye. "I'm sending the launch back to collect a few supplies. How far is it to the house?"

"Half a mile or so," said Hawkeye, "You know, you didn't have to bring anything, Charles, we've got it all in hand."

"Really?" said Charles, "Including a decent wine or six, smoked salmon canapés, duck rillettes, quail salad?" He smiled. "I had the cook throw together a few snacks – I don't want to tell him he's laboured in vain."

"Ohh…okay," said Hawkeye, "Let me get Beej and Peg up to the house. I'll send dad back for Max and Soon-Li, then I'll come back for you and Ellie, and whatever else you've brought."

"Don't trouble your father, Hawkeye," said Soon-Li, picking up her son, "Max and I can walk it from here if you show us the way."

"I'll come with you," said Ellie, "Be nice to get my land legs back. Beth can come with me, Charles, will you be okay with the twins?"

"Yes, I think I can manage to make sure they don't wander off, or fall in the water or something," he replied, "There appears to be plenty of beach for them to run about on. Go ahead."

By the time Hawkeye returned in the car, the launch was back with a big box of toys, Elliot's carry-cot, crates of wine and trays of food – and both the twins and Charles were covered in damp sand.

"How'd you get so dirty so fast?" laughed Hawkeye, depositing the wine in the trunk while Charles brushed himself down and attempted to clean up the two little girls.

"One of the joys of fatherhood," he said, dryly, "Finding out that _telling_ them something doesn't necessarily mean they take any notice of it."

"You should be used to that, Charles, BJ and I never listened to a word you said either," said Hawkeye.

"Hah! How true," said Charles. He coaxed Laura out of her shoes, tipped the sand out of them and cleaned the leather against his trousers as best he could, then repeated the process with Lauren. "Good thing your mother wouldn't let you wear your birthday ones," he chided, gently, "Don't go chasing after any more crabs, okay?"

"'Kay, daddy," they chorused, buckling their shoes back on.

"How _do_ you tell them apart?" said Hawkeye, as Charles lifted them into the car.

Charles smiled. "Practice," he said. "Took me a lot longer than Ellie, but once you see the difference, it's easy enough."

As they parked up on the grassed slope near the house, Margaret's car pulled up next to them, and Sherman and Mildred Potter climbed out.

"Hawkeye! Charles!" Potter exclaimed, rushing across to shake the two men by the hand. "Hot diggedy, but it's good to see you both." He looked down at the two small figures who had climbed from the back seat of Hawkeye's car. "Jeez Louise, I'm seein' double here! Hello!"

"Hello." "Hi."

"Sherman, these two rather grubby little specimens are my daughters," said Charles, "This is Lauren, and this is Laura."

"Speaking of grubby," said Ellie, who had come across to them with BJ and Max, "What happened to you?"

Charles looked sheepish, and pointed down at the two youngsters, while the others got reacquainted.

"Figures," she said. "Mildred – good to see you. You remember our Beth?"

"Sure do," said Mildred, "But she was a lot smaller when we last saw her. Hello, Beth. And hello, little chap."

"That's my brother, Elliot," said Beth. "He cries a lot."

"Well, I expect you did too when you were two months old," said Mildred, "It's what babies do."

Carrying the food, wine and the Potters' luggage between them, they all walked slowly up to the house, the children racing in circles around them as they went.

"So, are we expecting anyone else?" asked Potter, as they reached the porch and Daniel Pierce came out to greet them.

"The O'Reillys," said Hawkeye, "They're coming by Greyhound bus, would you believe. So we won't get to meet little Henry - they're leaving him with Patty's parents. But we're sure going to have a house full."

"There are a couple of spare berths on the _Clare de Lune_ if it helps," said Charles.

"Charles brought his own ocean liner," Hawkeye explained to the Potters.

"Yacht," corrected Charles, with a grin.

"Charles, _I've_ got a yacht," said BJ, "It's about thirty feet long and has a little sail on the top."

"That's a dinghy," said Charles, squashingly.

"Nothing changes," chuckled Potter, as Daniel Pierce led them all around to the back of the house, "They're back together for five minutes and the bickering's started already!"

"Ellie, are you going to be making any records this year?" asked Peg, as they all settled themselves into the deckchairs on the lawn, "I loved that Chopin selection you did last Fall."

"Thanks," said Ellie, taking a seat under one of the sunshades. She unfastened the straps of the baby sling and settled Elliot on her lap. "I'm going to re-record David's _Korean_ in stereo next month – and he's written a new piece I'm going to play in Washington in September. I guess we'll record that some time soon too."

"So, Charles, how do you like having a famous musician in the family?" called Hawkeye, who was on the porch behind them sorting out the drinks.

"Which one?" said Charles, "My wife, or my brother-in-law?" He grinned. "It certainly saves me a fortune, getting all those free records from Decca." Noticing a squabble developing over the toybox in the middle of the lawn, he raised his voice: "Lauren! Let that go _right now!_ Lee had it first."

The little girl stamped her foot. "I'm Laura!"

"No, you're not," called Ellie. She stood up and plonked the baby onto Charles' lap. "Here – hold my wrap," she said, with a grin, "I guess I'd better go and referee."

"I'll come with you," said Peg, getting to her feet.

"Ohh – perfect timing, Ellie," called Charles, about three seconds later. Holding Elliot up, he wrinkled his nose at sight of the little damp patch on his trousers. "You just had to wait till you were on _my_ knee, didn't you?" he reproached him, playfully, "It wasn't enough for you that your sisters had already managed to get me covered in sand?" Tucking the boy under his arm, he rummaged in Ellie's bag to find a towel to put across his lap, and sat Elliot on top of it. "Now do your worst!" he said.

"You're not going to change him then?" teased Margaret, laughing at Charles' scandalised expression.

"Margaret, please! I will hold him, burp him, amuse him, kiss him and even, should occasion arise, sing to him," said Charles, "But I draw the line at -" he pulled a face "- changing him. I have never changed a diaper in my life, and I have no intention of starting now."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, give him here then," said Margaret, walking over, "I'll do it. You come to your auntie Margaret, Elliot – ooh, you're a heavy boy aren't you? Charles, could you at least find a clean diaper for him?"

"That I can do," he said, reaching into Ellie's bag again. "On second thoughts, you're going to need most of the stuff that's in here." He stood up and picked up the bag. "Lead on, I'll bring this."

She led the way around to the front of the house, and they were just about to go inside when Margaret spotted a car coming up the track. "Hey, I think it's Radar and Patty," she said.

The cab pulled up by the porch steps, and the O'Reillys climbed out.

"Radar, hi! Nice to see you again, Patty," said Margaret, descending the steps to greet them, while the driver got their bags from the trunk.

"Major Houlihan, ma'am," said Radar, awkwardly, "I mean – er –" He looked from Margaret to Charles and then at Elliot. "Uh – did you two sirs get married?" he ventured.

"You know we did, Radar," she laughed, "But not to each other."

"Oh," he said, "It's just that the baby looks kinda like Major – doctor – Winchester is all."

"Of course he does," said Margaret, "Charles is his father." She realised what she'd said when she saw Radar's eyes boggle, and heard Charles chortle. "Oh, for heaven's sake, he's not _mine_," she explained, hurriedly, "I'm just changing him because his mother's busy and Charles won't… ohhhh – everyone's around back," she said, giving up on the explanation and flapping her free hand in the direction of the path, "Go on ahead. I'll see you when I've finished sorting young master Winchester out!"

The garden was a cacophony of children's squeals and laughter, and adult chatter, but Hawkeye spoke quietly as he drew Charles aside on the porch: "Charles, I hate to ask, and I know this is your weekend and all, but..."

Charles sighed and folded his arms. "Go on."

"I just need a second opinion," said Hawkeye, "Or, rather, a third one, since dad and I have both taken a look at the X-rays already."

"What, and the two of you don't know which way is up?" teased Charles.

"Are you supposed to be an expert or not?" said Hawkeye, needled. "Look, we can drive over to the surgery right now, we'll be back before anyone misses us. Come on, how often am I likely to _ask_ your opinion on anything?"

"Hmm, that _is_ a good point," said Charles. "Alright. Lead on then."

-

"Well?" said Hawkeye, as they checked the X-rays, "Is it operable?"

"In a case this advanced?" said Charles, "Hawkeye, I'm good, but even I'm not that good." He looked across at his old tent-mate. "But I think you knew that before you asked me – didn't you?"

Hawkeye sighed. "Yeah, I knew. I was just kinda hoping that perhaps in that big city hospital you might've come up with some new technique us Hicksville hacks hadn't heard about yet." He shook his head. "Actually, no, what I was _hoping_ was that you'd tell me my entire diagnosis was wrong. But it isn't, is it?"

"You know it isn't," said Charles, quietly, "I'm sorry."

"So am I," said Hawkeye, "These X-rays belong to the teacher who had the kids write us - you remember?"

"Yes, I do. I seem to recall she was a friend of yours."

Hawkeye sighed. "Since we were at school," he said. "Damn it, why does it always happen to the nice ones?" He shook his head. "Come on, bad news'll keep till Monday. Let's get back to the party.

-

As they climbed out of the car, three bundles of energy ran down the slope toward them and flung themselves at Charles:

"Where've you been, daddy?", "We missed you!", "Where did you go?"

"I just went for a little ride with uncle Hawkeye," said Charles, squatting down so that they could reach him with their kisses, "But I'm back now, so I hope you've been behaving yourselves." He tried to sound stern, but knew he couldn't really kid them – they all seemed to be able to read him like a book.

"_We've_ been good," said Lauren, taking her twin's hand.

"We found a butterfly, and we wanted you to tell us what it was," said Laura.

"But we couldn't find you, and it flew away," said Beth, sadly.

"Well, never mind – what colour was it?" said Charles.

"Sort of black with white dots round the edges," said Laura.

"And it had blue and red bits too," added Lauren.

"Sounds like a Red-spotted Purple," said Charles, "If you see him again, you show me."

"Beth tried to catch it," said Lauren, "And she trampled all over uncle Hawkeye's flowers."

"Did not," said Beth.

"Did too!"

"Did _not_."

"Did too!"

"Didn't, didn't, didn't."

"Did, did…"

"Enough!" yelled Charles, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. "Beth – if you did do it, don't do it again. And you two – stop ganging up on her and telling tales. If I see _any_ of you misbehaving, you'll _all_ go back to the boat."

"Aw, but…"

"No 'buts'," he said, bracing his hands on his knees, "Now go on back and play with the others and _be good_."

"'Kay, daddy." The twins giggled up at him for a moment, before turning and running back up the slope, hand-in-hand, their auburn pigtails flying.

Beth loitered behind, looking miserable and scuffing at the grass with her right shoe.

"Come here," said Charles, holding out a hand, and lifting her into his arms as she took it, "What is it, angel?"

"I'm sorry, daddy. I won't do it again," she said, wrapping her arms about his neck.

"Mm-hmm. Okay," said Charles, "But what do I usually ask for when you say sorry?"

"A kiss." She smiled, planted a smacker on his cheek and he grinned at her.

"I think you should give uncle Hawkeye a kiss too, don't you, since it was his flowers that you trampled?"

"Mmm, yeah," she agreed, dutifully kissing the proferred cheek as Charles held her in Hawkeye's direction.

"Go play now, sweetie," said Charles, lowering her to the ground and watching her skip away.

"Thanks, Charles – I needed that," said Hawkeye, touching his cheek where Beth had kissed it.

Charles smiled at him, switched his gaze back to his children. "They do make a tough day easier to bear," he agreed, tucking his hands into his pockets as they walked slowly back toward the house.

"And they've got you wrapped round their collective little fingers," observed Hawkeye, with a grin.

"Nonsense," said Charles, "I'm a very strict father."

"Yeah – I just saw," said Hawkeye, laughing. "Bet you get as boring about them now as BJ used to be about Erin," he said.

"Oh, God, I hope not," said Charles, "How did we manage not to kill him? Or ourselves?"

"Or at least rip his tongue out!"

"Or tear up his letters between the fifth and sixth times he read them to us!"

They made their way around to the back lawn, where Potter was busily instructing BJ on how to light the barbeque. Charles watched the column of smoke climb skyward, and shook his head, pityingly. "And to think you didn't want me to bring the canapés ashore," he said.

* * *

"So, who's for dessert?" said Margaret, putting the bone from her chicken drumstick onto her emptied plate, and licking her fingers.

"Margaret's made what may possibly be the Biggest Trifle in the World," said Hawkeye, as he munched another stuffed olive.

"Plus there's chocolate cake, ice cream, and jelly for the kids," said Margaret, wiping her hands on her napkin and getting to her feet. "Charles, that paté was to die for, could your cook let me have the recipe do you think?"

"It was my mother's recipe," he said, leaning over to tickle Elliot, who was lying in his carry-cot beside Charles' chair, "And I'll be sure to let you have it before we leave. It's easy enough – even Ellie can make it!" He made a choking noise as Ellie stood up and pretended to throttle him. "Remember the insurance isn't valid if you kill me!" he grinned.

"That thought is all that's saved you on a number of occasions!" she retorted, dryly. "I'll come help you, Margaret. Who wants what?"

"Is Charles really okay about listening to music now, or is it just your playing he likes?" said Margaret, as she spooned trifle into the two remaining bowls on the table, and handed one to Ellie.

"Oh, he's mostly alright with it these days," said Ellie, "He's still not ever played that Mozart _Quintet_ you and Hawkeye gave us, but just about everything else he's fine with."

"He used to listen to Mussorgsky a lot, back in the Swamp, and Mahler."

"Yeah, he still does. Though personally, I prefer something a bit lighter – Delibes maybe, or Vivaldi. So usually, we compromise with Beethoven or Tchaikovsky."

"I love that _Pastoral_ symphony," said Margaret, putting the remains of the chocolate cake into a tin and looking around for the lid. "Charles introduced me to that during the time he shared my record player."

"Oh, yes, that's a lovely piece," said Ellie, "It was a part of the first concert Charles took me to. But I guess if I had to choose just one, I'd have to go for Ravel's _Bolero_."

"Don't think I know that one," Margaret confessed.

"Sure you do." Ellie hummed her a few bars. "It starts off real slow and builds to a terrific climax. Actually," she said, giving Margaret an impish grin and a wink, "It's a great piece of music to make love to."

Margaret goggled, then giggled. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." Ellie licked her spoon, and smirked with evident relish.

"Lucky you," said Margaret, grinning, "Some of the guys I've known would have needed a real short piece that started with a bang."

They both dissolved into snorts of hysterical laughter, which continued for several minutes. Just as they were hiccupping their way back to sanity, Charles walked in, holding a crying baby. "Ellie, I think he's hungry, could you..." He stopped, glanced worriedly from Ellie to Margaret and back again, while they fought to keep their faces straight. "What? What did I do?"

Margaret, shaking with suppressed mirth, heard Ellie blurt: "Nothing, darlin', 'sjust girls talk."

"That's what worries me," he said. He handed the wailing infant to his wife and turned to go, then glanced back at her, his eyes alight with amusement. "If I find out you've told Margaret about the caviar, I _will_ divorce you," he said, before continuing on his way.

The suppressed giggles burst out of them the moment he was out the door, though Ellie sobered up when Margaret looked at her and said "Caviar?"

"No! Absolutely not!" she said, cuddling Elliot and sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. She couldn't mask a grin though, and even allowing for the colour she'd acquired from laughing, Margaret could see she was blushing. "I've said way too much already! Charles finds out what I told you, he'll be consulting his lawyer Monday morning."

"Okay," said Margaret, making a mental note to ply Ellie with a little more drink later on. "I think your marriage is safe though – he's still head over heels. No-one ever looked at me the way Charles looks at you."

"That I _don't_ believe!" said Ellie, unfastening her blouse and guiding baby to breast, "What about Hawkeye? He gets that kind of pathetic puppy-dog look when you're near him."

"Sure. Me and most other females," said Margaret. She picked up her trifle and moved to the door, "But I love him anyway - damn him!"

* * *

"Boy, it's quiet out here," said Ellie, as she rejoined the party, Elliot dozing on her shoulder as she sat down, "Where'd the kids go?"

"They're just over the gate in the field," said Hawkeye, pointing "Dad's keeping 'em occupied looking for fairy-rings, and Peg's gone with 'em. Don't worry, they'll be fine."

"While it's quiet, how 'bout we revisit that last dinner we had together at the 4077th," said Potter, "I've been tellin' Radar how we all stood up and said what we'd be doing with our lives. I reckon I pretty much nailed it - a little doctoring, a little fishing-" he caught Mildred's eye "-okay, and a few little tasks Mildred saved up for me too. But I reckon there's a few of you found things didn't go quite the way you planned - how about we all catch up together now?"

"That's a great idea," said Hawkeye, "And bags Margaret and I start, 'cos we've been bursting to tell you our news all day!"

Margaret nodded, smiling broadly. "BJ knows about this already, but we swore him to secrecy! We're adopting a baby!"

When the congratulatory noises had died down, Hawkeye resumed: "Not just any baby either. Father Mulcahy put us on to a place called Welcome House, in Pennsylvania. They find homes for Asian and half-Asian kids, and we've just got all the paperwork signed for a little girl we both fell in love with." As he spoke, he pulled a photograph from his pocket and handed it to Radar to pass round. "Isn't she cute?"

Margaret added, a little sadly, "She reminded us so much of that baby girl we couldn't find a home for in Korea."

"Does this mean you're going to be spending more time at Crabapple Cove, Margaret?" said Ellie, kneeling down to gently place the baby in his carry-cot again.

"Sure does." Margaret smiled. "I promised a certain Colonel that once I'd got my career in order I'd make sure I was happy. I guess I'm finally ready to put my nursing on hold."

"Don't worry, you'll be doing plenty of nursing," said Soon-Li, "Just a different sort!"

"We had a letter from Mulcahy for all of us," said Hawkeye, "Guess this is a good moment to share it." He hunted through his pockets, eventually locating the rather creased envelope in his shirt pocket. "Ah! Here we go!

_My dear friends,  
I'm so sorry I'm unable to be with you today but, as some of you may know, Trapper is due a court hearing anytime now, regarding the restoration of access to his children. He's very nervous about it, and I've promised that I'll accompany him, and speak on his behalf if necessary. He's come so far, I do hope he won't have his hopes dashed again.  
We'll both be thinking of you all over the weekend, of course, and I'll be able to visualise the scene quite well, thanks to all the photographs Trapper has shown me of his time there.  
I'm very proud of the work we're doing here at the Institute, and it's amazing how many medical supplies seem to arrive just when they're needed, with never a name or an invoice attached. I'd thank God, but I suspect that - thanks to Him - I actually need to thank a few of you. So - thank you, and God bless you for your generosity, doctors.  
Yours in Christ  
Francis John Patrick Mulcahy'"_

"Gee, I hope it works out okay for Trapper," said Radar, "I know he did a lot of stuff he shouldn't have an' all, but he did love his kids."

"Well put, Radar," said Potter, "Now - you were lucky enough to get home before the rest of us, so you weren't at our 'last supper'. But how about you go next?"

"Oh, uh, okay sir. Well, um, have I mentioned that the baby's on solids now?"

A chorus of good-natured groaning assured him that he had. Several times.

"Oh. Sorry. Uh, well, he's being Christened in a coupla weeks, and Mrs Blake's going to come and see him, and she says she'll be his Godmother an' all."

"That's real nice, Radar," said Potter, tolerantly. Radar had mentioned that to him several times already too. "And how's the farm doing?"

"Not so bad. Both the cows Major - uh, Doctor Winchester and his family sent had calves. And if the weather holds, I reckon we'll have a real good harvest again this year. It's kinda tough still, but at least it's working out now."

"And on the 'working out' front," said Potter, "You're probably the only other one here, BJ, who's done exactly what he said he'd do."

"Yeah, well, I didn't need much of a crystal ball!" agreed BJ, grinning. "As far as the future's concerned though, you may not all have heard that I'm training to be a consultant Paediatrician. And so far, I'm loving every minute!"

"Don't suppose you'd consider moving to Toledo?" said Max, "We could supply your first patient!"

"No thanks, Max," laughed BJ, "Not unless you can promise me a view to rival the one of the harbour that I have at the moment!"

Max shook his head. "Sorry. But I know where you can get a great view of Tony Packo's!"

"Can't say I'm tempted," said BJ, "But come on - tell us your news! How's the business going?"

"Booming," said Max, "The workmanship on some of these TV sets, you wouldn't believe. Need repairing every other week - I'm delighted to say!"

"We're even thinking of opening another branch on the other side of town," said Soon-Li.

"All I need to do is persuade - er - my financial backers to stump up the capital for the shop," said Max.

"You didn't just whimper, did you, Charles?" said BJ.

"No - it was him," said Charles, quickly, pointing at his son, "Wind, probably."

"Yeah, well, you'd know all about that!" said Hawkeye.

"And I was about to say the same of you," retorted Charles.

"Come on, children, play nice," said Potter, mildly. "Charles, it's your turn anyway."

"Yeah, and as I recall, Charles, you said something about your life continuing as before," said BJ. He glanced at the baby. "Guess you got that wrong huh?"

Charles smiled. "Yes, I did. I also said that music would always be a reminder of... what happened. But thanks to Ellie, I'm happy to say I got that wrong too." Reaching over, he took Ellie's hand and pulled her onto his knee, saying: "It's a Winchester tradition..."

Everyone groaned again, and Charles shushed them with a "Quiet, you'll wake the baby!" before continuing: "As I was saying: it's a Winchester tradition, on the birth of a first son, to present your wife with an eternity ring." He reached into the pocket of the jacket that was slung over his chair and pulled out a small box. "This is a little late, but I thought it would be nice to wait till we were with our friends," he finished.

Ellie stared at him, then at the ring he had bought for her. "I don't know what to say," she gasped, "Except... it's beautiful! Thank you!"

"No. Thank _you. _For everythingsaid Charles, sliding the ring onto her finger, and kissing her.

"Ah," said Potter, "I _love_ happy endings!"

_**The End.**_


End file.
